


quite perfect

by orphan_account



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Domesticity, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mornings aren't one of Harry's favourite things, but breakfast with Eggsy is, so he supposes he'll have to make a sacrifice.





	quite perfect

**Author's Note:**

> me: bOTTOM HARRY FEST  
> also me: shoot i can't write smut

“Harry,” he hears as he drifts into consciousness, lips mouthing against the shell of his ear in a manner that would have him shying away, biting back a laugh if he hadn’t trained himself out of the reflex years ago.

“Harry,” the voice calls again, urging, “Wake up, babe.”

Harry refuses to open his eyes, letting out a breath in a huff.

“Don’t call me that,” he mumbles, rolling away from the soft laughter with marked vehemence.

“You love it, really,” but if Eggsy thought the fond affection in his tone would be enough to pull Harry from the sleep he’s still clinging desperately to, he would be utterly mistaken.

“Harry, come on!”

“Ugh,” Harry proclaims, accepting his fate with all the grace he hasn’t yet mustered up this _fucking_ early in the morning, “What.”

“Oi,” Eggsy says, with mock affront as he tugs Harry up and into his arms, “You’re the one who was all like, “I _would_ like for us to have breakfast together at least once this month, darling.”. Don’t go getting snappy with me, love.”

Harry ignores the deliberately atrocious impression of himself and pulls away, finally allowing his eyes to blink open.

The slightly blurred vision of Eggsy’s smitten grin is the first thing he sees, and he’s tempted to turn away with another pronounced “ugh”, if only to hide his own.

He doesn’t, of course, because he’s a grown adult and a Kingsman, and it takes all the control he’s worked far too hard to achieve to meet Eggsy’s gaze with reproach.

(He realises, somewhere in his mind, that he’s being quite the annoyance - the way he always is on mornings devoid of the thrilling rush of adrenaline that comes with a satisfying fight.

He’ll make it up to Eggsy. He always does.)

“Come on, Harry,” Eggsy says, brightness undimmed, “Up you get.”

“Yes, yes,” Harry grumbles, “I’m getting.”

A warm hand wraps around his, pulling him up, up, up, until he’s on his feet, and he continues into a stretch, carefully catalouging the pleasant aches in his body with satisfaction.

A soft touch trails along his hips quite suddenly, and an indulgent smile steals across his lips as he glances down at the fingers tracing light bruises that Eggsy seems adamant on renewing every opportunity he has.

Eggsy’s lips part, and he takes a breath to speak.

“Breakfast,” Harry hurries to say, and he’s across the room in two strides, retrieving his robe from where Eggsy had draped it carefully over a chair.

Tempted as he may be, he _has_ missed having breakfast with Eggsy; the past month filled with rushed, sleepy kisses as one of them whisks out the door, days passing before they see each other again, marching to the ridiculous beat of the new mission schedules.

Really, the sooner they filled up the empty seats the better. Arthur’s being far too efficient with the few agents they do have.

“Right,” Eggsy says, sheepish, “it ain’t much, just eggs and toast. You take any longer, though, and the tea’s gonna get cold.”

At that, Harry is (somewhat) dressed and out the door in seconds, only barely managing to refrain from racing down the stairs.

By the time Eggsy makes his way down, Harry’s sitting at the table, as put together as he can be with his hair in his eyes, clad only in a robe. He sips calmly at his tea, arching a brow at Eggsy leaning against the doorframe, shaking his head.

“Took you long enough,” Harry says, just to see disbelief flash across his face before melting into exasperation.

“You’re ridiculous,” then, abruptly straightening, maddening blank smile in place, Eggsy gestures at the seat beside Harry’s and asks, “May I, good sir?”

Harry nods, waving imperiously at the chair, “You may.”

Eggsy’s chuckle meets Harry’s grin briefly as he brushes their lips together before he plops himself into his seat,and they lapse into a familiar, warm silence.

And this- this is what he’s missed - watching Eggsy gingerly roll up the sleeves of a perfectly ironed shirt, the occasional soft curses marking the struggle against eggs far runnier than Harry can comfortably look at, and a murmured, “Thanks, babe,” when he leans in to brush crumbs off the corner of a smiling mouth.

He’s never been a big fan of domesticity, but he finds that what they have - the little, quiet moments in between bouts of fairly vigorous activity (when it wasn’t bloody reconnaissance missions) - suits him just fine.

Until Eggsy pushes away from the table, beaming eagerly, patting his lap.

“Come on then,” he says, over Harry’s embarrassed, “It’s _quite_ alright!”

“Harry,” and it takes only a few seconds of meeting an even gaze before Harry relents.

Even after a full year of practice, he’s still cautious in settling himself on Eggsy’s lap, forearms resting against solid shoulders, hands grasping at the back of the chair as Eggsy pulls him in close into a tight hold.

“Surely the sofa would have been more comfortable,” he mumbles into Eggsy’s neck, any thought of resistance disappearing quickly along with the tension in his body at the warm, slow slide of a hand along his spine.

“Nah, this here’s perfect.”

In a few minutes, he’ll have to pull away. In a few minutes, he’ll be sending Eggsy off with a lingering kiss, and he’ll be left behind in a silence shared with no one; something he hadn’t realised he hadn’t been able to bear, before Eggsy. In a few minutes it’ll be hours before his own mission briefing, and days before he sees Eggsy again.

Still, a few minutes is minutes away, and right now, yes, he thinks, it _is_ quite perfect.

 


End file.
